


A Thousand Words

by Belkiney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Funny, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belkiney/pseuds/Belkiney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel should know better than to play along with Dean when he gets bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fluffy goodness. I was bored and it was tempting!!!

      Another case in another town found Dean sitting on his bed numbly navigating Sam’s laptop through what was supposed to be research. Really he was just staring blankly at each page his eyes unfocused and vacant. Shoving the laptop to the side Dean laid back and massaged his temples. Looking around the room for something, anything his eyes settled on the unopened bottle of whiskey by the television. Bingo. Moving from his bed he swiped the bottle and took a large drink. Dean hesitated for a moment he had his drink, but now the shadow of loneliness was creeping up to grab him. With his brother turned Terminator out doing God knows what he was left with only one option.  
  
     Spinning in a lazy circle Dean yelled the name of his feathered friend into the air. Sometimes, if he was persistent enough Cas would show up. For minutes he stood in the middle of his room and “prayed” to the Angel, drinking whiskey from a plastic bottle. It seemed like hours before the Dean heard the gentle flap of feathers and gave one last lazy turn to face those piercing blue eyes.  
  
     “Hello, Dean.” Castiel stood too close as always and for once Dean didn’t mention it. The closeness alleviated some of the loneliness the hunter couldn’t quite shake after everything with Lisa.   
  
     “Heya, Cas. How’s it up there?” Dean began casually through another shot of whiskey.   
  
     “Choatic. Why did you call me?” brisk as always. Dean raised an eyebrow and shrugged in response before falling back to sit on the hard motel bed, dropping his head to look at the floor. He felt those blue eyes digging holes into his head, waiting for a response.  
  
     “Have a drink, Cas.” He held the bottle a loft, making a small noise of approval when it was lifted from his fingers and Castiel’s weight settled beside him. Cas      wondered if it was advisable to sit here with the Winchester instead of returning, but the look on Dean’s face mimicked his own loneliness and confusion that he’d felt after rebelling. Sam’s lack of soul was clearly taking its effect on Dean.  
  
     They sat together in the silence both of them staring at the same spot of wall, occasionally turning to observe the other thoughtfully. After several drinks had loosened Dean’s tough façade the Winchester had started up with one of his new found sources of amusement, picking on Cas. Tonight’s topic of choice was his clothing and that he always wore the same thing. He’d given up months ago trying to explain to Dean that he simply had no need for anything else.  
  
     “Don’t you ever want to wear something different?”  
  
     “I have no need.” Dean gave him that arched eyebrow incredulous look. He really shouldn't have been surprised when Dean shot up from his seat, reached into his duffle to grab a handful of clothing then roughly shoved them and the angel into the room’s little bathroom. Dean smiled smugly, if Castiel allowing himself to be manhandled than he was obviously willing to humor him.  
  
     So here he was, if only to bring a smile to Dean’s face, Castiel dutifully stripped from his suit and coat and put on the hunter’s clothing. He felt ridiculous without having to look at himself in the dingy mirror. Resigning himself to the torment he stepped from the bathroom and turned to face Dean.  
“Why are we doing this?” he muttered. Lips pressed into a thin line and eyes looking upwards at the ceiling as if looking for answers. Castiel was exasperated and wanted nothing more than to take wing and leave, but he’d agreed.  _Kind of._  
  
     Dean choked back his laughter. Castiel, the warrior angel, looked so small and cute; Dean didn’t think people of people as cute often. Much like the main character from one of Ben’s weird wizard movies, Dean’s shirt hung over the smaller body, limply draping over a pair of worn out jeans that were at least two sized too big for the vessel’s body and sagged low enough to show a thick band of black boxers. Dean sat on the bed chucking softly to himself, mischief flashing across his face. Cas flopped his arms lamely to his side, head cocked to an angle looking impatiently at Dean.   
  
     “Dean, can I put my clothing back on now?” Cas bemoaned ready to turn around, embarrassment was not an emotion he cared for.  
  
     “Nope, hold on.  **Hold on!** ” Dean sputtered practically running to his jacket where he dug his phone out of his pocket. Returning to his spot on the bed he held out the phone to snap a picture. Cas opened his mouth to ask when it dawned on him.  
  
     Eyes wide Castiel lunged. The click of the shutter snapped as he collided with Dean knocking the two of them back onto the bed causing it to shutter and groan in protest. He snarled, reaching for the device as Dean extended his arm as far as he could. Wrestling the hunter Castiel snatched the phone from Dean’s hand and slammed it onto the motel floor where it shattered under the force of the blow. Cas nodded, satisfied with the effect.  
  
     Warm skin on skin shocked Castiel into noticing that Dean’s hands rested tenderly on his waist, the shirt bunched up so that the hunter’s fingers were on his bare skin. Wide blue eyes looked down curiously at Dean who’d gone still. Castiel arched over Dean bringing their faces close, feeling the warmth of Dean’s body and smelling the whiskey on his breathe. Pushing the boundaries of closeness Cas inched down toward Dean until their noses could touch.   
  
     “Cas…” Dean’s eyes were half closed, lips parted igniting another emotion in Castiel that he wasn't sure if liked.  
  
     The door to the motel room kicked up with a bang! Sam barged through the door with a bag of food in one hand and stopped dead at the sight in front of him. It wasn't often your lecherous brother was pinned down by another man. In a blink Castiel was gone leaving a pile of clothing in his wake. Dean pushed himself up and looked down at the shirt where Cas’ warm weight at just been.  _Son of a bitch!_  
  
     “I didn’t know you swung that way,” came Sam his face split into a sneaky smile. Dropping the food onto the rickety table Sam moved toward the bathroom “But, hey, I don’t judge.”  
  
     “I don’t judge.  _But, hey, I'm awesome because I'm Sam_ ,” Dean mocked his brother under his breath warily. He went to crouch down around the wreckage of his phone, digging through pieces of machinery until he found the little blue card. Exclaiming loudly he held the card above his head in triumph. At least he had the proof.  
  
     “Um, Dean…?” Sam asked through the bathroom door  
  
     “What Sam?!”   
  
     “Castiel’s clothes are on the counter… Is... Is he flying around naked?”  
  
     Dean's face split into a grin so wide his cheeks hurt.

 


End file.
